Chapter 184: His Day in Court
His Day in Court
As Tibert's words rang across the clearing, demanding Martel's head on a stake, Kerra's laughter came in response. Heart beating in his chest like a drum, Martel did not find anything amusing about this, but he hoped Kerra's response indicated how he should feel about this demand.
"Allow me to reply," the Copper Lady said, stepping forward to approach the middle. Tibert remained where he was, staring down at her. "I freely admit that a mage of my acquaintance entered the fights at The Broken Crown. You all know how that went."
The people laughed and smiled; apparently, the story had spread. Tibert only looked more infuriated, if possible, but although Martel expected him to interject, he remained silent.
"But I never told him to hurt Tibert or cause any destruction. The fact that Tibert stands before us unharmed, and his tavern is in one piece, should be ample proof that I made no attempt against him. Even the shoddiest arsonist should be able to burn down a wooden building if armed by magic," she declared.
"Only because he was interrupted," Tibert shouted, finally giving his retort. "He was revealed to be a mage before he could properly set to work, but he still gave it a good try, setting my fighting hall on fire."
"We can ask the mage himself what happened," Kerra suggested. "If you don't mind relinquishing your little platform."
"Let's hear from the wizard and be done with this," demanded Ironside, the stern master of the market.
Growling, Tibert jumped down and stepped aside while Kerra turned and motioned for Martel to come forward. As the novice approached the pedestal, adjusting the scarf around his face, Tibert glared daggers at him.
"Tell the council what occurred," the Keeper instructed Martel as the latter stepped onto the platform.
Looking around, Martel felt the eyes of all Nine Lords upon him. It was intimidating, to say the least; especially with the empty stone buildings and the surrounding darkness, only disrupted by weak torchlight. He had little doubt that if they desired it, they could easily learn his identity regardless of the mask on his face. He felt angry at Kerra as well, who had claimed he faced no danger from these people. He wondered if she had known from the start that Tibert would demand his death.
Regardless, he had already considered his chances of escape. Nobody here seemed a mage; although Martel had caught a few glimpses of magical shimmer, it had been from objects, not any person. With empowering magic, he imagined he could outrun anyone here – as long as he could find his way back to the entrance and get through the door. Probably best if it did not come to that.
Clearing his throat, Martel began to speak. "I joined the fights at The Broken Crown. It's true that Kerra sent me there, but she gave me no task other than to win my fights. During the last one, someone threw Sindhian powder at me. As the crowd found out about my magic, they went into a frenzy. I raised a wall of fire to get people to move back and give me an escape route, but that was it. The flames weren't even hot enough to hurt anyone, let alone start an actual fire. I swear."
His eyes had wandered while he spoke, trying to ascertain the opinions of the people who apparently held his fate in their hands. Both Lady Pearl and the Comtesse smiled at him, though he could not tell if they did so out of cordiality or because they looked on him like cats watching a mouse in the open. Ironside wore a blank expression; the Paladin yawned. The others did not seem inclined one way or the other either.
"I believe that is all you need to hear, in addition to this," Kerra said, motioning for Martel to step down. He gladly did so, hurrying over to stand next to Wolfram. "During the Golden Harvest, Tibert attacked my residence with his dogs, throwing torches. Now unlike him, I am not so easily spooked, and nothing happened. But I would say he has more than had his opportunity for retribution, and it is frankly ridiculous that he forces us all to gather like this, simply to make his complaints."
"Copper bitch," Tibert sneered, but he made no other argument.
"I have heard enough," declared the Friar. "While Kerra should not have meddled in the fights at The Broken Crown, our good master of the harbour already had his chance to settle the score. The fact that he failed has nothing to do with us."
"I agree," said Lady Pearl. "It seems a waste to sacrifice this wizard, young and sweet by the sound of his voice, simply to appease a man who gets angry when he puts his socks on the wrong way."
The others laughed and voiced their agreement. Nobody favoured Tibert's demand.
"The council has spoken," proclaimed the Keeper. "No action will be taken."
Martel expected for Tibert to protest, or perhaps simply draw weapons and run straight at him. Yet he did nothing other than turn on his heel and march away. Already, the other groups began to make their departure as well. Nobody had an interest in staying in this place longer than necessary. The council of the Nine Lords had ended; Martel exhaled in relief.
~
Kerra's band did not hang around either, but began their journey back. They walked in the same formation as before. Everyone moved in silence, perhaps feeling oppressed by their sinister surroundings; Martel was the exception, feeling too relieved at the outcome of the gathering to stay quiet. "That went well," he remarked to Kerra, who walked by his side. He still felt annoyed at her, but any frustration was eclipsed by his good mood at the moment. "It seems like Tibert didn't know what to do at all. He barely had any arguments." He ignited magelight at the tip of his staff, dispelling the nearest darkness around him.
"I agree, which is why I doubt this was the full extent of his plan," Kerra considered.
He glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
"You've met the man. Does he seem like the sort who goes to court for revenge?"
"But why else would he drag us all out here?" Martel asked.
"Because now he knows where we are and when. In an isolated place, undisturbed, far from my stronghold with only a handful of guards."
The implications hit Martel like an arrow. "You think he's going to attack us?"
"That would be his style. Keep your eyes open. We are not safe until we are back at The Copper Drum."
"But I thought the Pact forbade him from attacking you?"
"There are other ways of getting revenge besides killing someone," Kerra muttered. "Now I suggest you keep your magic ready at a moment's notice."
They continued down the cobbled streets of the dead city. Before, the place had already felt foreboding and ominous. Now, Martel imagined death lurking within every shadow. He gripped his staff tighter, looking at his companions. All four of Kerra's guards walked with tense expressions, apparently having the same thoughts as she did.
Martel wanted to shout. He wanted to grab Kerra by the shoulders and shake her, yelling into her face and ask why she had allowed them to be this vulnerable. Distracted by these thoughts, he only noticed the ambush as it happened.
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